


Mirrored (My name is Written in Bold)

by ScentedBooks



Series: Geraskier Week Spring 2020 [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Geralt's POV, Heterochromia, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates have their names written on each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22723897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScentedBooks/pseuds/ScentedBooks
Summary: Each person in the world who has yet to meet their soulmate has two different colored eyes. One for them, and one that is their soulmates. When they meet and recognize that they are soulmates the mirrored color goes back to their original owner. They also have their soulmates names somewhere on their bodies.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Week Spring 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634068
Comments: 11
Kudos: 650





	Mirrored (My name is Written in Bold)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Soulmates 
> 
> https://geraskierweek.tumblr.com/post/190058691883/art-by-marshallmigraine-link-to-art-here
> 
> Find me:   
> @ScentedBooks
> 
> Also I'm apart of a lovely discord server:  
> https://discord.gg/YNf6chy

The door to the small tavern creaked as Geralt quietly made his way inside. He attempted to silence his steps as much as he could manage, the heavy boots made the floor groan underneath him anyways. Luckily, no one paid him much attention. Although the tavern was small, music filtered though effortlessly, the patrons inside jostling one another as they listened to the voice he couldn’t see through the mass of people on the other side of the room. 

The voice was – not unpleasant. It ranged from higher notes, and into the lower with only a hint of a slight rasp that perked his hearing at the professionalism in a note alone. This voice, while pleasant, he’d always preferred drinking in silence. The less noise in a room, the less likely that he would need a drink in the couple minutes that he would be there.

It appears he wasn’t going to get that silence today.

Though he was not getting any silence in this tavern today, luckily the sweet voice was keeping the attention from shifting to Geralt. The barmaid eventually brought him an ale before she too walked over to listen to the voice sing a song that flowed easily from the instrument he could hear. She swayed silently and her matching eyes closed in a soft smile as people laughed and carried on with the singer. 

Men were glaring in the direction of the singer, who’d gotten through the crowd of people who were moving out of his way. 

Geralt saw that it was a bard. A bard wearing fancy attire that didn’t belong in a tavern like this. The outfit was meant for a royal party where then he would sing and dance. The man’s brown hair fell softly around the back of his head, and when he turned around the blue of left eye winked in the direction of one of the women who was listening. He only saw a glimpse of his other eye before Geralt’s attention was taken lower.

Geralt was looking directly at the man’s neck. 

As his head tilted toward the woman, black lettering stood dark against his pale skin. It shaped the movement of his throat as his voice filtered through the tavern walls. 

_Geralt_

The man’s throat barred his name. In large lettering and script that delicately wrapped and curled over and down his neck for all to see. 

Geralt wanted to _bite_. He wanted to mark the skin all around and on the little bard’s throat. Turning the white to deep blues and purples. Leave _teeth_ imprints. Burying himself inside that lithe body. 

Make him shudder in pleasure. 

The bard turned his head once more. As if feeling Geralt’s eyes on him. 

And Geralt looked away, he knew that the bard’s attention was solely on him and felt the wood floor begin to make slight noise as he ignored the patrons around him to walk towards Geralt. 

The music stopped abruptly.

The footsteps of the bard stopped in front of his table and he fought the urge to look up in his blue eyes once more and the voice spoke, a sirens melody, 

“I love how you just sit in the corner and brood.”

He looked into the bard’s eyes and his own stared right back at him. They were mirrored, he knew those eyes anywhere. He’d seen them in his reflection within the various ponds and streams he’d bathed in the night before, or on journeys around the kingdoms. 

Rarely did he get to look in a mirror, but when he did, the sparkling blue of the ocean stared back at him with beauty that he couldn’t imagine seeing for himself in this lifetime.

But here it was, staring at him in surprised wonder, reflecting his own, and the bard wetted his lips causing them to shine. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as they stared at one another amongst the drunks and peasants still shouting in the tavern. 

“I suppose I should tell you my real name then… Geralt of Rivia.” He sat himself down softly, directly across from him at the small table in the corner. The area only seemed brightened by the blue of his eye and he opened his mouth again with a soft smile, 

“My names Julian – but you can call me Jaskier.”

“Julian.” Geralt’s voice rumbled quietly. He watched as the gold of Jaskier’s right eye flashed before Jaskier inhaled sharply without breaking eye contact and the beautiful blue appeared in its rightful place. 

He watched as the name on Jaskier’s neck turned a soft gold, not shining, but claimed. A primal urge settled in his chest, the force of wanting to mark where his named has been, will be forever. His hand instinctively went to his chest where the name ‘Julian’ sat proudly. He could imagine that it now, instead of a deep black, in its place was a bright blue. 

When he had walked into this tavern today, the pull of his soulmate had already been strong and heavy on his mind. Taking a break in an unimportant village and leaving Roach to her devices in a poorly crafted stable was almost enough for him to leave. 

But the pull of his soulmate had been to strong. 

Now, as he sits here speaking to Julian, -- no Jaskier about where he’s headed to next. His back ached sitting in this booth all night but looking away from those blue irises was not something that he planned to ever do again. 

When they left the tavern the following week. Jaskier’s throat was marked. It encased itself in deep purples in the shape of teeth. He walked along the side of Geralt’s horse, strumming and singing softly. His eyes closing every so often, looking up to the sun, it shined into his eyes as they neared another town, likely in need of a Witcher. 

Geralt finds himself humming within his mind as the bard strums his lute. He thinks of the way Jaskier’s fingers elegantly glide over each chord. His voice following the melody. Leading to his throat moving and the name engraved into his neck shifting with each note. 

Geralt thinks that drinking ale quietly in a tavern isn’t his preference anymore.


End file.
